


I Want to Hold Your Hand

by conniptionns



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Fluff, Loving Marriage, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Post-Canon, Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-27 08:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7611115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conniptionns/pseuds/conniptionns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andrew being romantic in his own way</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lay It On Me

**Author's Note:**

> Someone mentioned Andrew not being a romantic and I immediately subscribed to it, but then I thought about it some and...he kind of is? In his own way. I could literally talk about how Andrew feels love forever so I'll just let you read!
> 
> EDIT: beta'd by the lovely @halleythegreat

Andrew is not a romantic, and it works out because Neil is oblivious to other people’s public displays of affection. Andrew has never linked pinkies with Neil the way that Aaron does with Katelyn when he thinks no one is looking. He’s never desired to loop his arm through Neil’s the way that Renee does with Allison while they’re all at the aquarium. Andrew has never run up and jumped in Neil’s arms the way that Nicky does whenever he sees Erik. He’s never given Eskimo kisses, and watching Matt and Dan do it while spinning around the roller rink holding one another’s forearms makes Andrew’s arms itch and snap his armbands back into place. Andrew has never picked Neil up and spun him around after a particularly good exy practice session like Kevin and Thea do with one another. He’s never ever desired to do those things with Neil.

That’s why he’s surprised when Neil looks back over his shoulder with a face-cracking grin; Andrew wants to kill Neil. Not with his knives like usual. He wants to squeeze Neil in a quasi-hug so hard that he cracks his ribs. He wants to make Neil smaller so that he can put his boyfriend in his pocket and protect him from the world.

Andrew is fucking pissed.

Neil laughs his name, “Andrew.” And Andrew is ready to carve the smile right off Neil’s face. This is the same fucking moron that rides the knife-edge of death. He willingly goes headlong into dangerous situations for stupid reasons. Neil swipes Andrew’s cigarette, and Andrew contemplates murdering Neil as he taps another cigarette out. He leans back into the couch as he lights up and squints at Neil. Neil’s got the fingers on his left hand threaded through his hair. He needs to cut his fucking hair. His right hand, the one holding the cigarette, is gesturing towards the television where a rerun of the Trojans' last game is playing. He’s grousing at the referees and Andrew isn’t listening to a word he’s saying. Andrew contemplates killing him again, but when he catches the time he puts out his cigarette and drops it back into the carton.

“Come on, shit head. We need to leave now if we’re going to make it to the airport on time,” Andrew says, cuffing Neil on the head as he passes him to grab his coat and bag.

Andrew crawls into the passenger seat and immediately lights up. He’s not exactly pissed that they have to fly during the busiest time of the year, but he is fucking pissed that Neil conned him into going to Germany. He chain smokes the entire ride to the airport and swears a blue streak when he runs out. Neil, without making the speed of the car falter, reaches into his pocket and pulls out a new pack. Andrew wants to fucking murder him again. He lights up angrily, and after a few puffs, Neil swipes it without taking his eyes off the road. Fucking exy boyfriends. Andrew tells himself that there’s still plenty of time to murder Neil and hide his body before the plane takes off.

The airport is overpacked. Flights have been delayed, rescheduled, and cancelled. There are desperate people waiting in lines that snake far past where they’re intended to stop. There are homesick people crying on phones, clogging the walkway. And there are people sleeping in chairs and stretched out along the walls. Andrew’s skin is crawling and he’s itching to light up. He tells himself that once they get settled he’ll find a side door to squeeze out of so he can get his fix. His boyfriend is ridiculously competent while navigating the crowded airport, and it reminds Andrew of all the lives that Neil has lived. All the names he has easily cast off and new ones he’s donned. Andrew isn’t afraid Neil would ever stop being Neil, but it brings back that niggling sensation—the one that makes him want to squash Neil into a ball and stick him in his pocket. Andrew had been trailing behind Neil, glowering at anyone that got too close to the man walking briskly in front of him, and Andrew decides why the fuck not. He half jogs the few steps until he’s next to Neil. Neil smiles down at him and opens his mouth to reassure him. Of what, who knows?

Andrew closes the distance between their bodies and grabs Neil’s hand in a bruising grip. Neil glances down at his knuckles that are rapidly draining of color and looks back up to Andrew with a question in his eyes. But Andrew doesn’t have a fucking answer, so he squeezes Neil’s fingers harder and drops Neil’s hand. Andrew flexes his fingers and finalizes his plans to murder Neil, when Neil stops walking. The flow of traffic behind them parts around them like the Red Sea and then swallow them back up in a sea of movement.

“Fucking what?” Andrew asks, pissed off.

“Nothing. You’re amazing is all.” Neil keeps walking. What the fuck was that?

Andrew has to haul ass to catch back up with Neil, and do some impressive maneuvering to get in between the wall of bodies Neil disappeared into. If Neil is thinking about Andrew’s little public display of affection he doesn’t show it. In fact he doesn’t show a sign that they stopped walking at all. His duffle bag is thrown over his shoulder and he’s carrying Andrew’s bag in his left fist. Andrew is holding their carry-on bags, Neil’s full of exy magazines and his laptop with more exy games downloaded on it and Andrew’s is empty. He’s planning on filling it with candy once they get through security. Neil is giving him a pass. Andrew is murderous again, for what feels like the seven hundredth time that day.

Andrew whips his hand down without another thought and clasps Neil’s hand in his own. It’s not the dainty pinky hook Katelyn is known for and it’s not the fingers threaded through each other’s the way that Matt and Dan are known for, but he’s holding his boyfriend’s hand in the crowded airport terminal on December 23rd. Neil’s index finger snakes to the edge of Andrew’s armband and he rubs the seam of it while asking yes or no.

“Yes. Shut the fuck up. 101% and rising fast.”

Neil’s only response is a shitty hidden smile, and his index finger dipping under Andrew’s armband to trace his scars. They hold hands until they hear, “Now boarding Flight 2341 to Stuttgart Airport, Germany. Terminal 8.” If Nicky could see them, he would shit himself. Andrew fishes the white gold ring out of the smallest zip in his backpack and grins. His present to himself courtesy of Nicky will be Nicky shitting himself when he sees the ring on Neil’s finger.


	2. Love Potion #9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew opens up a little bit about Cass, musicians are mentioned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I mention a couple composers in this and some of their pieces. I recommend them all highly! Maybe even pause while reading to listen to them? So if you don't recognize any of the names in this that's who they are.

There is easily nothing worse than taking off in an airplane. You’re strapped into a tin can as it jettisons into the sky and why the fuck does anyone do this? Neil’s hand was floating above his own, dancing slightly, as if he were hesitating.

“Who are you Eric Whitacre? Just do it. Your virtual choir isn’t here and I’m not going to sing Lux Aurumque. Just—yes, do it,” Andrew says. Neil’s hand settles on his own and he pinches the skin between Andrew’s thumb and forefinger. A headache, that he didn’t even realize was creeping in, started to fade away.

“Did you know that my name was once Eric?” Neil asked. “No, yeah for real my name was Eric. It was when we first left, my first name, too, actually. We were just outside of Cincinnati, Ohio. We had stopped for the night, and it was by this university—god, I can’t remember the name of it now, but it had these unreal vocal majors that would go out and just…practice. Wherever they could they would just meet up and sing together. It was wicked cool.”

Neil reached across Andrew so his left hand was lined up with Andrew’s left hand. He looked at Andrew, and slowly started conducting a song that only he could hear.

“And anyway, Mom would let me sit in the back of some local fast food chain while they practiced. The person conducting, the way they controlled the speed and feel of the music, always mesmerized me. I’ll never forget when one of the girl’s came over and taught me the song they were learning. Mom was pissed. She was always worried, you know? Anyway, it was one of my favorite memories,” Neil said with a smile.

Andrew kept his hand limp, allowing Neil to direct him. Andrew knew how to conduct music. He was thinking about Cass’ husband, the overworked music professor from a small liberal arts university. Neil was humming Lux Aurumque under his breath, and Andrew was fighting a war to not see Cass humming the songs under her breath, in the exact same way, while her husband practiced after dinner. She would wash the dishes and pause to let a tiny Andrew stand on her toes and “twirl” her about the room.

“Her favorite was Frank Ticheli,” Andrew spoke after a moment. Neil look confused so Andrew continued, “Cass. They were a musically inclined family. All of them were first chair in All-State bands, the top bands too. Anyway, we would listen to Shenandoah—that was by him—the Ticheli guy, and when it finished she would always be crying. I would wipe her tears and ask why she was crying, and she told me that sometimes in the world there were things that hurt you in the very best way. She said that it was the things that hurt you in a good way that you owed it to yourself to keep. Keep playing them, keep listening, keep reading, and keep writing. She said to find things that took your breath away…” Andrew trailed off. Before Neil’s hand could slip away, he grabbed it.

“The first time I saw you, you immediately took my breath away,” Neil said after only a moment of hesitation. Emboldened by Andrew grabbing his hand. “Okay to be fair, you immediately took my breath away, I didn’t even have to look at you. Considering you whacked the shit out of me with my own exy racquet.”

Andrew huffed out a breath, but otherwise stayed silent. Neil turned in the little seat to face Andrew. “I can’t give you back those moments. You wouldn’t want me to, I know. But I just need for you to know that I’m not leaving and you seem convinced to stop anyone from taking me. After all this time, I trust you to keep your word. There are no words that I could ever give you that would abate any and all the fears you have, but I just have to let you know that I’m going to try to prove it to you.” It was right after Neil said this that they hit a pocket of turbulence. It was Andrew’s immediate thought that they were dying that convinced him to reply more openly than he would have otherwise.

“My favorite was Ludovico Einaudi,” Andrew said. Neil listened intently, he always did that, was never disappointed when Andrew didn’t comment on his promises or make more promises to Neil. Neil knew that Andrew said everything that he did for a reason, and he just listened. What the actual shit? “I remember when I first played Oltremare for Cass. It wasn’t great or anything. It was on some shitty secondhand keyboard that you get for like really little kids. But I played Oltremare for her and when I was done she said that I loved things that gave me hope. I’m bad at this shit.” Andrew squeezed Neil’s hand and Neil squeezed back, hard enough to leave indentions in both of their palms. Andrew flipped their hands so Neil’s was underneath his between their seats. When he let go, a little glimmer caught Neil’s eye. It was a thick-banded ring.

Neil looked at Andrew. Andrew looked back steadily. He didn’t know what Neil was searching for or why he didn’t talk or move. Andrew was frozen. Neil having found whatever he was looking for grinned tightly at Andrew.

“I’ve never heard Oltremare, we should pay for the in-flight Wi-Fi so we can look it up. Also,” Neil slipped the ring on his left hand, “Does this mean you want to go steady with me?” What a smarmy little shit.

“No.”

“Oh, well, look you can see your reflection in it.”

“It means I want to marry you, dickhead.”

“Aren’t you supposed to ask nicely? You know I won’t be a kept man.” Neil sounded exactly like a breathy, southern debutante and Andrew wanted to strangle the life out of him.

“Yes or no?”

Neil took a deep breath and Andrew’s fingers twitched.

“Yeah, you’re pretty cool. I guess you can take me to the sock hop.” Neil was admiring the way the light reflected off the ring.

“Only if you wear a leather jacket, I’m really into Greasers,” Andrew intoned, dully, as the Fasten Seatbelt light lit up.

“You know, Nicky’s going to shit himself,” Neil said.

“That’s the goal,” Andrew replied, gripping Neil’s hand for the decent.

“As long as we’re being super honest, I’m kind of pissed that you stole my thunder,” Neil said.

“What?” Andrew glanced up from the vomit bags he had been considering a moment earlier, to look at Neil. “Are you pregnant?”

Neil barked a laugh. “No, you dick.” And he pulled out a slate grey ring, in a slightly wider size to fit Andrew’s blunt, boxy fingers.

Andrew’s answering smirk was absolutely sinful. “Nicky is going to have a heart attack.”

“That was the plan,” Neil said, laughing.


	3. Who I Want You to Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicky's reaction to Andrew and Neil getting engaged. He is good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's meant so much that you've read this. It's given me a lot of courage to keep writing. I hope that you'll subscribe so you can see when I post a new story! Drop me a comment or hop over to my tumblr and leave me ideas or headcannons. I love hearing from you guys.

A tired Erik greeted Andrew and Neil after they made it through customs. It was a relatively long ride back to the Klose apartment, but they finally made it. Neil was leaning heavily into Andrew’s side. Erik noticed the rings. “Nicky is going to be sorry he missed out on this. I’m so happy for you guys, man” Neil was no longer awake, but Andrew appreciated the sentiment. He helped Neil fall onto the pull out couch. Andrew kept watch all night. There was no way he would ever be able to sleep here anyway. Neil had his face under Andrew’s arm. His mouth open and lightly snoring where he was pressed against Andrew's shirt, and Andrew wondered how the stars aligned to make it all work out.

Hours later, a sleepy Erik tiptoed in to make coffee. Andrew offered up a quiet, “Guten morgen.” Making Erik smile. Andrew understood why Nicky loved him so much. Erik was everything Nicky ever wanted from home life. Nicky deserved him. They spoke for a little while about Nicky, because as gruff Andrew got with Nicky he was still the first person to give him a stable home after he left Cass (though he would never admit that to Nicky).

There was a deep intake of breath and Andrew hid a small grin behind his coffee. Neil made sleepy stretching noises before getting up and padding to the bathroom. Erik excused himself back to his room. Erik came back with a grumpy Nicky, grousing about being up so early. Erik kissed his nose and asked Neil if he wanted to go for a run. Once Neil and Erik were gone and Nicky was on his second cup of coffee he and Andrew start cooking a big breakfast, continuing tradition. Nicky mentioned wishing Aaron was there, but he was spending Christmas with Katelyn’s parents and Nicky was just glad part of his family came over for Christmas.

Neil was grabbing a gift from Andrew when Nicky saw their rings. “NO."

“It’s a very new development,” Neil explained. “Like, just happened on the plane ride over new.”

Nicky got a soft look in his eyes and Andrew rolled his while he pushed Neil to open his gift. “Guys, I am so proud of you both.”

Andrew started to get prickly and quiet, but Nicky was insistent. “Andrew I was, I mean, I was worried about you. Not that you need me worrying about you, but Andrew you’ve been hurt so many times. I am just so proud? Nothing keeps you down. Ugh, you know I’m not downplaying. This is good.”

It’s later when Nicky cornered Neil. Neil thinks Nicky wants to wax lyrical about their relationship, but was surprised by the intensity that Nicky hit him with. “Neil, you know that I love you like family—you are family, but I need you to understand that Andrew will always come first. You know? And this isn’t me saying that you would do anything or that you don’t also deserve this. But be gentle with him. He has a lot that he is going to have to continue working around. And yes, this is common knowledge to you, and you have things that have been a struggle and have altered you…this is hard because I love you both and want the absolute best for you. I know Andrew can take care of himself, but please just—“

“Nicky, I know. I really know,” Neil reassured him.

Andrew and Neil headed back to the states the Monday after Christmas. Neil had plans to spend New Year's Eve with Matt and Dan in Columbia before heading back to their apartment in Nevada. Andrew was driving a speeding car to Dan and Matt’s small ranch house, when Neil lit a cigarette and passes it to Andrew. Sure, Andrew’s wasn’t a romantic, but he was planning on marrying one.


	4. You're My Secret Weapon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> domestic andreil for my good friend Abigail
> 
> This chapter is very Morgan indulgent (I'm Morgan) and because of that, it is very out of character and lmao I don't care, please ENJOY

Marriage isn't about being in love with someone. Marriage isn't even about really liking someone. Marriage is, above all other things, a partnership. You can like your partner, you can even love your partner, but fickle emotions like that aren't persistent. Lasting relationships are built on mutual respect and waking up every morning and choosing your partner, every single day. Or at least that's what Andrew's therapist told him.

He no longer met with Bee, on Wednesdays during half of his two hour lunch break; he met with a portly old man with a strong Boston accent and the darkest brown eyes Andrew had ever seen. Those eyes had a knack for looking at him, through him, and around him and picking up on the things that Andrew refused to speak himself. Because even after 15 years of meeting with a trained therapist, Andrew still had trouble voicing his small questions. He had come so far, leaps and bounds from where he was in college, and he never took away the credit he was due, but sometimes he worried.

It was small things that got him, really. He wasn't on the rocks with Neil. They weren't even really fighting, well they fought, but their fighting was spirited debating that ended in a good place because they really did respect one another. No, Andrew was just worried. Well, there was a name for this worry in particular, but it wasn't a worry that you voiced. That base fear that lingered, somewhere above your sternum and below your jugular, and slowly tightened its grip, making it harder to admit every day that it wasn't mentioned.

Neil knew every part of Andrew, but being known is a deadly terrifying thing and the only way to protect yourself is to hide away tiny bits of yourself. Parts of you that no one else saw. The ugliest bits. If you were particularly good, like Andrew, you had a knack for being just open enough with the person you trusted to give them a false sense of security. That they had held your basest fears in their hands and turned them around so much that if they couldn't help you overcome those fears they could walk side-by-side with you as you experienced them.

Neil was the best person in the world to walk next to. The wiry man was formidable in his own way. He had faced down torture in Andrew's name and bartered with deadly men on a regular basis, and he never showed fear. Neil rarely ever seemed to be well and truly afraid. He had an awful habit of laughing in the face of danger before diving in, and as much as Andrew hated it, he loved being forever tied to the man who refused to be tied down.

There was something special about being an exception. It's not something that happened often, to normal people either, Andrew assumed. It just wasn't something that people got to experience on a daily basis, but Andrew did. Neil chose him. Neil didn't want anything but everything in his bag, but where Andrew was concerned, Neil wanted everything. Their house was full of things that Andrew had given Neil. Neil never bought anything for himself that wasn't practical. Old habits die hard, and a life lived on the run during your developmental years produces some odd habits. Stocking up on non-perishables and almost always having a packed bag on hand (even if it was locked away to prove that you weren't going to run, and if you did there was a matching duffle beside it). Because to Neil, there wasn't much worth having if it didn't include Andrew.

Andrew wasn't of the mind that Neil's world revolved around him. He was of the mind that in the different futures that Neil's mind still mapped out for him, Andrew was a constant in the same way that Mary once was.

There's something to be said about being chosen, being a constant, being wanted. It could never be described succinctly enough to be a few small words, or Andrew would have tattooed them on his body years ago. He was still waiting for the day that he figured it out, because he would ink it over every inch of his skin so he never had to forget how it felt.

The only downside of hiding parts of yourself from the person that you care for is that the hidden parts were enough to convince yourself that maybe, just maybe, hypothetically, in a metaphorical way, on a day when the tilt of the earth is just right, that those hidden parts are the only thing allowing them to be wanted.

But that's why Andrew stood there, because it was better to know than to not know, and how could he continue to live with the not knowing?

Neil glanced up at him with a smile and Andrew solidified in his mind the things that he would keep if Neil didn't choose him.

* * *

 

_ Neil waking up in the middle of the night, still half asleep, and asking Andrew questions from his dreams. _

_ Neil anxiously twisting his ring whenever he got nervous. _

_ The way Neil shivered when Andrew kissed the ring on his husband's finger. _

_ The way Neil would absentmindedly pet the cats, and even Andrew thinking he was a cat, if the exy match was particularly captivating. _

_ Being caught by Neil putting Kevin's frozen yogurt into the fridge so it started to melt, and then having Neil join in with him. _

_ The way that he and Neil joined together, and how regardless of what happened, Neil was always present enough to take care of Andrew in ways that he had never been cared for before. _

_ Neil being sick in bed and not letting anyone take care of him. _

_ Andrew refusing to watch exy and Neil saying "yes or no" only to sit on Andrew in a playfully painful way until he could wrestle the remote from Andrew's chocolate sticky grip. _

* * *

 

There were fifteen years of memories, and Andrew didn't know how to pick the ones that he ached for the most. There wasn't any good way to say it, so he decided that just coming out with it was the best course of action.

"Neil, trade secrets?" Andrew asked brusquely.

"Yeah?" It wasn't a short question, but it was slightly exasperated. Andrew could understand, they hadn't played at this in years. Neil probably thought that they were past this game.

"This is a genuine thing," Andrew clarified. Neil sat up taller in his seat and put down the overly complex rubix cube that Andrew had gotten him two days prior.

"Hey," Neil said, trying to get Andrew to make eye contact with him before he continued, "I'm here to listen to you. That's what we do, yeah? It's hard, sure, but I mean what did you expect after the first year you knew me?" He reached out and clasped Andrew's hands. "If you can say it, say it, and if not, I promise that I'll read any note you write instead."

That meant a lot to Andrew, there were some days where he didn't think he had the words or the energy to talk to Neil, so he would leave him notes. But this was something better left said, so that there was no room for misinterpretation. Andrew sat beside Neil, making sure they were on the same level.

"I've been talking with my therapist, and I'm going to try to tell you something I'm afraid of that you don't already know. It's a dark and ugly thing and if you don't want to comment you don't have to." Andrew didn't mean it. He thought that perhaps the only hopeful part of him would be extinguished if Neil chose to ignore him, but the caveat made it easier to open up.

Neil gave him a look that said there was no way in hell that he wasn't responding, which was fair, because Neil had something to say about everything. There wasn't an easy way to verbalize this, though. How did you tell the person that had somehow wormed their way into your heart that they terrified you every day, that you woke half because you couldn't believe they existed, and the other half because you knew that they were the only thing that could destroy you. They could take you apart at the seams.

How did you tell someone that you were afraid you might actually lose that you were afraid to lose them? How did you tell them that there was this voice in your head that never really let you have hope that things could really be yours because it knew your history. That it knew every dark thought that had ever crossed your mind and, once realized, would probably make anyone run away from you, for good? But most importantly, that after being together for so long, you still didn't feel like they would stay with you, because why would anyone stay?

You didn't get to be where Andrew was without learning that as soon as you allowed yourself to care for things, that was when they would be taken away from you. It happened in his foster homes, it happened in the group home, it happened in Cass's home, it happened in juvie (but only once), it happened when he first tried to obtain a pipe dream, and it had happened in small and great instances over the years. Andrew had adapted to survive, but in doing so had hidden part of himself away in a way that he was sure would make him lose Neil, yet again.

What was worse was that Neil had no idea. There are some secrets that are never realized by anyone, because the person keeping the secret refused to acknowledge it themselves. Andrew barely knew what his fear was. He had voiced it to his therapist, who had come up with some ways for him to broach the subject with Neil, but he was still trying as hard as he could to suppress it.

He supposed he could just come right out with it, so he did.

* * *

 

There was something so freeing about telling the person you cared about your fears. Once you leapt, you no longer had to deal with the fear of heights, just the fear of falling, and it was something that you couldn't escape so it wasn't something that you could run over the different ways you could say it. Unquestionably, the very best thing about telling your fears to someone who cared about you, just as much as you cared about them, was that when you took a leap that felt like it was from Mount Everest, you often found out that you were really only leaping from a hill.

When jumping off a hill you still had to brace yourself, bend your knees and keep your ankles straight. Sometimes you felt the shocks rocket their way up your shins briefly, but after jumping you felt mostly unchanged, except for the lightness in your chest.

Neil Josten was like a pipe dream that lingered after the high wore off. The entire time you were high on the fantasy, you were sick with the fear of the dream disappearing. Once the sober light of morning hit your eyes and you blinked away the sleepy confusion, you remembered that it was a dream. You told yourself you would always have the memory, and you rolled over to go back to sleep in the hopes to catch a fragmented and fabricated version of what was perfect before you woke up, only to roll smack into your dreams come to life.

* * *

 

Unquestionably, the best part of being married to Neil Josten was that if you had to face absolutely anything he was the one person you could trust to get you safely out of the situation, even at disregard to himself.

Undoubtedly, the best part of being married to Andrew Minyard was that if you rushed headlong into a situation you never had to question if he had your back and both your sides, and he definitely would pick your sorry ass up off the ground if you ran off trying to be a martyr.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: @exychamp


End file.
